Skip to main content

Short Story Time: A Day at the Park


It’s 83 degrees outside without a cloud in sight. I went to pick up Dixon, like I do every day. I was there for about 15 minutes before I grew suspicious. Usually the bus is there by 3:30. There were no other parents outside either. Growing nervous, I called the school. “What’s your daughter’s bus number?” “I don’t know her bus number,” I replied shamefully. “Well if it was bus 11- they just left.” “If I don’t know her bus number that’s not really telling me anything.” I said aggravated. “What’s your child’s name?” “Dixon ________.” I replied. “They just left- they’ll be 30 minutes late.” “Great, thank you.” I mumbled. 

 I decided to take the clan to the park. We grabbed some ice cream from Chick-fil-a where I had to threaten Harper a couple of times that he wouldn’t get any. The glorious angel of a cashier gave me a thousand napkins and wet wipes when he saw the kids. He needs a raise. 

At the park, I parked the car where I could see the kids. They ran off to play and I put Logan in the front seat with me. She smelled interesting. I turned her but over to find the evidence. Yep. Leaky pooh. No more CVS brand diapers for us. I changed her and we played while I watched the kids in my peripheral. They were on the seesaw. Both of them on one side, a little girl on the other. It made me proud to see them sharing and sticking together around other people. *HONK* Logan was pressing up against the horn. I started playing with her to keep her occupied. Out of my peripheral I saw some more girls go over toward them. I instantly got defensive. They bet not be trying to make them get off. Then I saw Dixon and Harper run off playing with the girls. Cool. 

A while later Harper came over to the car. “I need water!” His little cheeks were pink. When I was a kid I got overheated easily. He is definitely my child. “Go get Dixon!” I said. He ran off. After it took him a while to come back I walked over. I didn’t want to embarrass them because I didn’t brush my weave and I had on some short shorts and Nike flip flops with Logan on my hip. Whatever. “Dixon! Harper! Come on!” They came running over. Dixon was fussing at Harper. “I told you that you were going to fall!” She said making a hand clapping motion and doing the ‘what are those’ hand gesture. “I’m so mad at Dixon!” Harper said. Then it occurred to me that when I walked over there, Dixon was sitting on a barrel with a girl and Harper was on the ground. So he fell. And she didn’t help him. “Dixon I don’t like the way you’re acting. This is your brother before anything or anyone. I don’t care who you make friends with, your brother comes first.” “I made new friends.” She said. “And that’s great. But you knew your brother wanted to get up there with you. And instead of helping him you made fun of him for being too small- in front of your new friends. How do you think that makes him feel?” I asked. “Left out.” She dropped her head. “I’ll never do that to my brother again...” I looked at Harper. “I’m sorry.” Dixon said. “What do you say Harper?” I asked  “I’m so mad at Dixon!” He repeated! “I said sorry!” Dixon pleaded. “Harper she said she was sorry. So what do you say?” Harper looked at me annoyed. “I don’t know.” “You say it’s okay...” I said. “It’s okay.” He forgave her and then we went home. πŸ’™πŸ’™

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

My seven year old is a hater

Have a girl they said. It'll be fun they said. Don't get me wrong, my oldest child is my pride and joy. She's every mom's dream. A complete replica of me. Problem or nah? PROBLEM. Not only does she look like me. She acts like me. But I'm 29. And she's 27- I mean 7. If you follow me on Facebook  you are all too familiar with my Dixon's servings of opinion drenched in hot sauce. Especially when it comes to my physical appearance. I mean- given I have been a little on the adventurous side with my hair, and my right arm is covered in tattoos. I may not have the ideal mom image. But I'm not the type of mom that walks around with rollers in her head either. I mean I think I'm cute. Most of the time. I do have a 7 month old baby and a 3 year old though. And with that, some days you're lucky if I brushed my teeth! Just kidding, I brush my teeth every day. But I'm not going to act like there aren't days where I run out the door to drop my son off...

MOB: Mommies on a budget

Mommies! We have to budget. So I have decided that Mondays are for BUDGETING! Like seriously? Let's get excited about this. I know you already know this. I've known this for years and I'm ashamed to say it hasn't always been my forte. I mean, we have to spend so much doggone time doing everything else, who the heck has time to budget- and budget meticulously at that??? Well you have to make time, mama- because if you don't, you'll pay for it later. The best thing about a budget spreadsheet is you can make adjustments. You can see a visual of where and when those adjustments will effect you. I know it's hard to stick to a budget when raising kids- there are so many unpredictable expenses. However, if you write it all out, you can project where you may need to do something extra to make up for extra money spent. I remember 12 years ago, looking at my father's laptop and he had the most DETAILED spreadsheet I had ever seen in my life. Like ya...

Momager Mombie

The girls are gone. The boy is sleep. Yet here I am. Starting a blog at 2 AM and listening to Sabrina Claudio. Mombie . I actually fell asleep around 9 PM. But between the multiple phone calls from Logan's dad- actually let's just start right there. WHY do dad's act like they cannot function without us? "When does she take her medicine?" "Where did you get this formula?" Like suh. The GROCERY STORE! "Okay but which one?" I understand he's a first time dad. But when I had my third child, honest to goodness I adopted a fourth. We are not together. Yet here he was, Facetiming me at 11 PM to have me walk him through giving Logli her medicine. Does she normally fight like this?           "No." I said. And I think I may have heard Logan whisper, "help. me." Mom of three, manager of six. Which makes me a Momager. I have to manage the kids, and each one of their dads. People bash moms who have multiple children by multipl...